


Étude of the Dream's End

by rubylily



Category: Trusty Bell: Chopin no Yume | Eternal Sonata
Genre: Blood, F/M, Guro, Tragic Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-19
Updated: 2013-08-19
Packaged: 2017-12-23 23:39:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/932446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubylily/pseuds/rubylily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As long as Polka could live, Frédéric Chopin would endure any suffering, no matter how painful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Étude of the Dream's End

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for bloodyvalentine, with snuff/death as the prompt.

His dream was ended. His physical body had already died, and soon this body would die as well. It had been expected, of course - to save one's life required the exchange of another's. Frédéric Chopin had paid that price.

He had stood in the flower field near Tenuto with the others, but since Polka had lived in his place, he had faded away into a dark, never-ending abyss, where his dream body had taken on all the burdens of his real body.

The physical body of Frédéric Chopin had been fated to die young. All he had left was his soul.

He was on his knees, and sharp piano wire bound his throat, wrists, and torso, holding him up with his arms outstretched. His clothes were torn and the countless wires cut deeply into his flesh.

Frédéric had always been suffering, lashing out at others. He had always been a weak human being, unable to protect his own country, but if he could save one life…

Even if that life only existed in a dream.

The wires tightened around his body, and he choked, tasting blood at the back of his throat. His many wounds bled freely, staining his ruined clothes. His body was soaked in his own blood, and he would keep bleeding until the world ended.

This world could only be saved as long as Polka remained in an endless time loop. Dying over and over, being reborn repeatedly only to sacrifice herself every time. But he had taken her place, and now he would suffer alone until the day of judgment.

He did not wish to die alone, but his own desires were meaningless.

"Emilia…" Frédéric breathed, his voice sore, and he began coughing blood. He still remembered all the times he had spent with his sister, all the games they had played together. She would live on, not only in his memory, but also in the memories of her older sisters Ludwika and Izabela, and also in Polka.

_Polka…_

Frédéric started coughing again, and he tried to clench his fists to fight against his bindings, but his fingers were too numb to move. In response, the wires around his neck tightened even more, almost crushing his windpipe. He could barely breathe, but his lungs had always been unreliable.

"Please God…" Frédéric knew that no human being could begin to comprehend the will of God, but he still couldn't understand why God would allow innocent children to suffer and die. He had long since accepted that God had abandoned him and the people of Poland, but at the very least, Emilia and Polka had deserved His blessings.

Frédéric's breathing grew strained. He would see Emilia again soon, and how he longed for that day! Polka at least would live on, with her kind heart and innocent smiles, and her love for him… He would suffer the deepest pains to save her, over and over again.

Even the worst pain could be bearable if she was still by his side. Only she could understand his suffering.

More wires shot out from the darkness, piercing through his chest, and he couldn't even scream out. His blood splattered onto the ground, and his sharp gasps of pain were only other sounds in this endless void. The wires encircling his wrists had also cut to the bone, and his throat was raw and bloody. How much blood had he lost? How much longer could he hold out?

But he had no choice. The will of God could not be changed, but he had saved Polka from her fate, and this was his punishment.

He wondered if it was ironic that piano wire now made him suffer so, when the piano had been his main source of joy and livelihood throughout most of his life.

"Forgive me…" he whispered into the darkness, and he jerked his head upwards when he saw light approaching him.

"Frédéric," said a soft voice that pierced the darkness like an arrow of light. Frédéric could never mistake that voice, and Polka came before him.

He tried to smile, and blood still trickled from his lips. "Polka…" he said, trying to ignore the pain of his punctured lungs. "You are free now. I created this world as part of my dream, but now it belongs to you, and I will sacrifice myself to save it in your place."

Polka knelt in front of Frédéric and touched his face. "Then, you truly will die?" she asked, tears forming in her innocent eyes.

"My real self has died, so my dream self will soon follow, but I must suffer this punishment first, so that your world can continue to exist," he explained. His voice was hoarse, but he forced himself to continue speaking. "I wish we could have spent more time together, but if it is for your sake, I can endure any punishment." He suppressed his tears and chose his words carefully. Polka was too self-sacrificing - if he asked, she would do anything for him. They were alike in that way.

Tears fell from Polka's eyes. "Frédéric…" she said. "If this is my world now, then I can ease your suffering just a little bit." She took Frédéric into her arms, and the wires binding him vanished, and he fell against her.

He coughed up more blood, and it stained her, but Frédéric no longer had the strength to push himself away, especially when she wrapped her arms tighter around him. "Polka, why…?"

"I'll stay with you until… until you die," Polka promised as she gently caressed Frédéric's cheek. "It's the only thing I can do for you now. As long as I think of you, you won't be alone."

_Will you die with me?_ As soon as the dark, fearsome thought invaded his mind, Frédéric tried to push it out. No, he could never ask something so selfish of Polka. She had suffered enough for him already, and he had made his choice. He had no regrets, except that he wished he could embrace her, but he couldn't even move his arms anymore. "It… may be a very long time."

Polka tilted Frédéric's chin upwards, and she kissed his bloody lips. "I love you, Frédéric," she said, smiling softly. "Thank you for everything you've done…"

Frédéric rested his head against Polka's chest, listening to her heartbeat. He didn't know how long they had stayed like this; for him it felt like an eternity, and his wounds never stopped bleeding, but for her, as she became more stained in his blood, it was probably not long enough.

There was no sound sweeter than her heartbeat. If he could, he would tear out his own beating heart for her, a grotesque, final sign of his love. He would die with absolute certainty, and she would truly be free.

His countless wounds still bled as more blood fell from his mouth, and his breathing grew slower and slower. The pain was dulling, and when he finally closed his eyes, his soul felt lighter. "Goodbye, Polka," were his last words.

The flowers Frédéric had called "Heaven's Mirror" erupted all around his body and Polka, and she sobbed as his blood covered the brightly glowing flowers.


End file.
